WICKED is Good
by TheRavenAndBear
Summary: WARNING: Contains spoilers for the Fever Code and Maze Runner Trilogy My idea on what may have happened after Minho's punishment in the Fever Code. Minho and Newt confide in each other. No romance, just harmless friendship and a heartbreaking one on one.


**AU: I've always loved the Maze Runner and wished that they did more on this incident here and I can't find any fics on it. This is what I imagine happened. I hope you like it!**

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there in that room. His body ached and his wrists, ankles and arms burned from the ropes that bound them to the chair. He no longer bothered to acknowledge the camera they had focused on him. Nobody was watching; not anymore, at least. He knew that_ had_. They'd watched him cowering in fear, terrified for his life. Four times they'd watched him. They'd seen him cry. He'd never let_ anyone_ see him cry before, not even when he was little. His mother was the only one he had ever let himself be vulnerable around, and he would never see her again. He had told himself that he could never let himself be vulnerable again. But he wasn't given a choice this time. WICKED had taken_ that_ from him too. It seemed anything he thought he could keep, they found a way to take from him and leave him as broken as possible in the process. His parents, his siblings, his freedom, his hope, even his own name.

"Have we learned our lesson, Minho?"

That voice. Oh how he hated that voice. That voice only ever came about when something bad happened. _Randall._ He remembered when the man forced him to change his name to Minho. He remembered when he, Alby, Newt, Teresa and Thomas got caught outside and Randall forced them to go into the Crank pits as punishment - except Newt, of course. Last of all, Randall was there when Minho was caught in his escape attempt. When they'd beat him into submission. Taken away his fighting spirit. He hated the man more than he knew he could hate anyone. What kind of turn would you have to take to do these things to _kids_?

"Well, have we?" Randall asked again, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Minho nodded. He knew that Randall would most likely punish him again if he didn't. But he refused to make eye contact or acknowledge the man in any other way. They had given his stubborn attitude just enough time resurface again, though he'd be much more careful with it this time.

"All right." Randall said, though Minho knew he was talking to the guards he'd no doubt brought with him. Despite the brave face the man put on, Minho knew he was afraid to face him alone.

Two blaster wielding men marched over to him. They untied his ankles, then his arms, and last of all, his wrists, clasping them in a tight grip so as to prevent an escape attempt. But Minho knew he couldn't escape, even if he wanted to. The guards hoisted him up, pulling him to his feet, but his legs were too weak from his fight the night before and hours of being trapped in one position. Not to mention his ankles were incredibly sore from the course rope they'd chosen to bind him with. He wouldn't be surprised if they were bleeding, along with his wrists.

"Use your legs, boy." One of the guards scolded him when he fell to his knees. He tried again to rise, but he couldn't. His legs gave out from under him and he would have fallen all the way to the floor if it weren't for the men who still held his arms.

"Help him." Randall's voice commanded. At that the two guards pulled him up and slung his arms one over each of their necks. Then they followed Randall out into the halls.

Based on how empty the facility seemed to be, Minho guessed that it had to be night time about now. That meant that he'd been kept in that room, tied to that chair for almost twenty-four hours. It seemed longer, yet almost shorter than that at the same time.

"Here we are." Randall said as he stopped outside of a door that Minho recognized to be the one leading into the barracks. As the man opened the door, the two guards grabbed his arms and pulled them behind his back, once again treating him as a prisoner. They brought him into the pitch-back room and none-too-carefully dropped him to the floor. They then turned and shut the door, leaving him in total darkness.

Minho shifted onto his back, too tired to pull himself off the ground just yet.

"Did anybody hear that?" A voice said - one of the other subjects.

"Of course I bloody did. It woke me up." That was obviously Newt. Strange to think that just this morning Minho thought he'd never here that voice again.

"I saw a light." Maybe Jeff.

Minho could hear the loud snores of Chuck, who was clearly not disturbed by the most recent turn of events. A few shuffling feet alerted Minho to some of the boys walking about, searching for the source of their awakening.

"There's someone over here!" That was Alby for sure. He stood just a few feet away from Minho.

"Minho? Is that you?" Alby asked, inching forward.

Minho tried to answer back with an 'I'm here,' but his voice was so course from screaming, and he hadn't spoken a word since then. His sad attempt came out as more of a strangled groan.

Alby was at his side in seconds, calling for a light to be turned on. A short click sounded and the room was filled with a gentle glow - likely from one of the few lamps they were allowed in the room. Minho blinked a few times to get his eyes adjusted to the light. The first thing that came into focus was Alby's dark skinned face with Newt peering curiously over his shoulder. A few other boys were gathered around as well.

"You look like crap." Alby said. The words sounded cold, but his eyes showed just how worried he'd been for his lifelong friend. "What happened to you?"

Minho groaned again and, with Alby's help, sat up against the wall. He tried to speak once more, but was greeted with haggard coughs.

"Can we get some bloody water over here?" Newt called.

"Can't!" Clint said. "Don't have any in the barracks."

Newt murmured something under his breath before turning back to Minho.

Minho coughed again and cleared his throat. "It's okay. I'm okay." His voice was more gravely, but at least he could speak.

"Okay?" Newt exclaimed. "Have you taken a bloody look at yourself? You look like you were in a buggin' street fight."

Minho gave a half broken smile, trying his best to lighten the mood. "You should see the other guy."

"This isn't funny." Alby said, his seemingly constant frown upon his face once more. He touched a finger to Minho's bruised cheekbone, causing him to wince a little. The Asian boy tried to hide the wounds on his wrists by dropping them to his sides, but Alby caught the movement. He grabbed Minho's wrist a little harshly, catching him by surprise. Alby turned over the wrist he'd captured to examine it. He rubbed a thumb over the dried blood caking the cuts in the skin. Minho was able to keep from wincing this time.

"What did they_ do_ to you?" Alby inquired, his eyes showing that he wanted nothing but the truth.

Minho downcast his eyes. He pulled his wrist away from Alby and drew his knees up to his chest. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Come_ on_." Alby whined. "After we heard the escape failed and then you didn't come back... Chuck's been crying like a baby since it happened. We thought you were _dead_, Minho."

Tears started to sting at Minho's eyes, but he did not let them fall. He snapped his head up. "I don't want to talk about it!"

Alby's face contorted in confusion and shock upon seeing Minho in such a distressed state. Newt shoved him out of the way. "That's enough, Alby! Go back to bed. You'll do nothing but upset him further. I'll bloody handle it." Alby scowled, but upon looking back at Minho, he softened, nodded and left. Newt turned to the other boys. "You lot do the same. He's not an exhibit, he's our friend. Let him have some buggin' privacy."

The boys all dispersed, whispering to each other and shooting short glances behind their backs. Minho had to be grateful to Newt. His friend always knew what he needed and how to get it for him. It hurt him to think that he could lose Newt to this sickness. He could lose the one boy he considered to be his best friend just by letting him step into open air. Minho supposed he had one thing to thank WICKED for: they saved Newt from a certain death out there and gave him a chance. Though Minho had to wonder, had they really saved him or just delayed the inevitable?

"I don't need you to tell me what happened." Newt said, taking a seat beside Minho. "I think those marks on your wrists, those bruises on your face, they tell me enough."

Minho shook his head. "They don't come even close to the whole story." He lifted the leg of his pants to reveal the marks around his ankles. "I can't tell you what happened..." Minho met Newt's eyes. "because I don't think I really know what happened, myself."

Newt looked horrified. "What_ do_ you know?"

"What do _I know_?" Minho repeated. He knew a lot, but he knew one thing above the rest. "I know that I hate them. I hate them for what they've done, what they_ keep_ doing to us."

Newt nodded, then stared off into a nothingness. "Then I think I shall hate them too."

"They're trying to_ save_ you Newt. You might not be here if it wasn't for them."

Minho's friend stared for a moment, then said, "Should I be grateful for a life I was forced into? Lizzie and I weren't like the rest. We had healthy parents. We were happy." The blond boy's face darkened. "Then WICKED came. They wanted to take Lizzie away. We weren't even sick and they'd already come for her. I wouldn't be here now if..." Newt's gaze fell and his voice cracked. "I guess that WICKED isn't all that heartless after all." Newt's eyes glistened with tears. "They had the mind not to leave a boy with the bodies of the parents they'd just killed before his eyes."

Minho was speechless. He'd never heard Newt's story before - why he was here when he wasn't immune. He'd just come to assume that they took Newt to test their cure on or something of the sort. Never in his wildest imagination could he have come up with the truth.

"They told us it was a mistake." Newt said. "They tried to get us to forget. I_ pretended_ to forget to satisfy them, but I still remember every detail."

Minho's heart hurt. He knew exactly what Newt meant by _'satisfy them'_. He meant 'to make them stop hurting me'. Just like they'd done to get them to accept their new names, WICKED had punished Newt and Sonya for remembering what happened to their parents. It was beyond cruel.

Newt shook his head. "WICKED is nothing but lies. And I don't even know which one to deem the greatest lie of all."

"I do." Minho said, drawing Newt's attention around. "When Alby, Teresa, and Thomas, and I were sent into the Crank pits, we saw a man - a Crank. He held a sign that read _'WICKED is good.'_ Newt..." The two friends locked eyes. "_That_ is the greatest lie WICKED has ever told us."

**AU****: Soooo, that wraps up my story. What'd ya think? Reviews would be much appreciated.**


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